Life Fragments of Kaidou Kio
by Anaya-Chou
Summary: A retelling of the story from Kio's point of view, beginning from the point he met Soubi. I wonder if they really had a relationship?.. Rated M for coarse language and violence, just to be safe. Disclaimer: nothing mine inside.
1. Chapter 1

- I can't do it. Fuck. It's like - oh just damn it all, I can't bring a single fucking thing out of it! It's just plain worthless! – I exclaimed to particularly no one, tearing yet another sketch to pieces and throwing it out in rage. I regretted it immediately, though, the moment it landed in the garbage can. I felt like crying – that one wasn't as hopeless, at least. Poor me.

This was one of those 'my muse has gone off somewhere' cases. No big deal, happened all the time – to me, at least. Feels awful.

- Agrh, I shouldn't have gone to this goddamn uni at first – what was wrong with working at a tattoo salon or something like that? Less ambition, more nerves surviving? Nooooooo, I wanted to become a fucking artist. And what do I get? Right, just this stinking paper I CAN'T GET ANY DAMN THING OUT OF!

And… this is how it goes. Eventually, I stopped my pointless yelling and tried to calm down myself a bit. Drank a can of cold beer, turned my eyes away from that concentration of evil – my workcorner – and took a deeeeeeep breath. It still pisses me off a lot – the times when my inspiration just isn't working, I mean. You know how it goes, right? Just about everything that comes out of your pencil is official CRAP. Period. And to recover from this hell there has to be something really special hitting your eye. Like Kawasaki being caught off while teaching another girl how to kiss. Oh yeah, that sight was priceless… **cough**. Anyway. This far I've been lucky enough to return to my normal state pretty quickly, but…

…But what I'm talking about isn't my creativity crisis, but one of the 'healing factors' that had turned my life into something entirely different. Hell, I've changed myself, too, changed a LOT.

He was merely a new student in our group, nothing special. True, I did think he was beautiful, but then again, I thought that about a lot of guys, starting with my beloved self. What? If you don't love yourself, no one will. That was the rule of my ever so positive life – but, as I said already, things change.

There was a bit of a commotion. Girls kept gossiping in whispers about the newcomer as if he was a new popular idol. They told me not to get close to him ('if you bother him, he'll make those really weird faces'), but that didn't do any good. I was curious, I have to admit, the more 'cause he didn't talk to anyone… So, I wanted to stir him up a bit. He was in our group now, so we're all in this together and stuff like that… Or to cool him off, in case he was just looking down on us. I was wrong about that, but you know – anyone would've considered that because he had the 'I don't care' feeling all around him.

But all this was forgotten once I saw his pictures. They became an ultimate cure for my crisis, which I never had ever since. He drew butterflies. Wings all around, spreading along the uneasy feeling like cold fall breeze and frail melancholy. Strange, that's for sure, but stunning beautiful. I had almost forgot to open my mouth and start to speak, so great was my astonishment. And even in the casual talk (actually, I was almost the only one who was talking, he still wasn't really eager to lead a conversation) I kept changing the subject to his pictures. Wanted to kill myself for that later – it just sounded so stupid. But they really struck me…

- Ohayo there! I totally loove your butterfly pattern. My name is Kaidou Kio. I really do like your artwork, – I dumped the first thing that was on my mind. As expected, that guy had no reaction to this.

- Geese. You're totally blocking me out! – I continued cheerfully. – Was this a waste of time? It's sort of sad that you don't have any friends! – That was true. People without friends are usually sad people, and sad people ruin my environment!

He just took out a cigarette and lit it. Is he smoking?.. Hey – a new theme to talk about!

- Ohhh! A cigarette! That's kinda gross, ya know? People here are much against smoking, - I don't like it either. Smoking. But I kept that one to myself.

There was a silence, and just as I was about to open my mouth again, he uttered:

- I'm only here to paint. Making friends wasn't a goal.

Finally, I thought. So he does know how to speak after all! I was victorious. An answer came out immediately:

- You must be so lonely to have such a philosophy! You're way too serious for your own good. Come on, you're young! Live life to the fullest!

There it was. The 'weird face' they'd warned me about. Not scary one bit. This is going to be fun, I thought.

The guy himself had long blonde hair, round glasses and an emotionless face. Oh yeah – a hot body too. No wonder girls had him on top of their chat… though no one had actually talked to him – he was freezing cold. Even I had felt a little uncomfortable around him at first, and I'm famous for my friendliness… even bluntness... I tried not to take notice of it, though. After all, my intuition had already told me he's a weirdo, but a really good one – and that chick is always right! My intuition, I mean. Gold stuff.

His name came to be Agatsuma Soubi.


	2. Chapter 2

After that, a new routine was established. I woke up early, got dressed, drank a cup of coffee instead of beer, took a handful of chupa-chups candy and arrived at the uni about half an hour before the lectures start. Waited impationately. Started talking five mintes before he arrived; it became some sort of an instinct eventually. As did the big broad smile which poped up on my face when he came in.

I just couldn't get this guy out of my mind. It didn't bother me, not really, I even enjoyed it – he was interesting after all, and the best listener I've ever met. Never interrupted me – well, never talked a lot, actually. He still was kinda... remote, you could say. Always seemed like a different world around him and his butterflies. Sensei praised him, and for a good cause. His paintings didn't vary a lot in thematics, but both technique and the energy in them were flawless. I didn't know why I had to keep myself around him or try to get his attention. It wasn't just one of my love-interest cases, despite the great looks and the great mystery, it was something else this time. Ouch, now that sounded very cliche... but that's how it was, that's how I felt. I felt a kind of addiction to this guy for some reason. Just had to follow him around.

Thus I had a new habbit to add to my list of chupa-chups, beer, and piercings (sometimes I wondered what would I do if the place on my ears finishes. Face piercings don't look so great...) – ah, figures out I have a lot of addiction to this life.

At first he did his best to ignore me. That was just amazing... no, really, I've never met someone who could imagine the gregarious-mode me as an empty place. And he did it with great skill. I was skeptical about it at first, but gave up after a while. This guy was made of stone. So I just decided to enjoy life and his company. I didn't believe he didn't need any friends. A guy who paints something like that just gotta be lonely, I thought. So… I was trying to fix that as much as I could.

I was finally honored with his attention about a month after his transfer. See, I had a huge tattoo on my back. I kinda liked it and… well, it brought back some memories. Turned out he liked it too. I was changing after I splashed paint all over my clothes accidentally – Mi-kun lent me his shirt – when he noticed it.

- A tattoo?

It was really rare for him to ask me whatever it was, so no need to say I was surprised.

- Yeah! I thought I had already brought this up, haven't I? – I was pretty sure I did... probably he just wasn't listening. – I'm not trying to hide it though.

- Strange... you don't seem to be the type with a tattoo.

That made two senteces in a row. Wow. Looked like a personal record... But I just took it for granted, as I always did. Now why wasn't I the type...?

- Honestly? – I answered. – Don't you know? Guys with a lot of piercings ought to have a tattoo as well, right?

Actually, he was right in some way. Normally, I wouldn't've made a tattoo – things like that freak me out a bit. I made it three years ago in the name of a girl I loved. Now, usually I don't like girls, but that one was a special case... and mostly platonic anyway. She pissed me off most of the time. She was five years older and way more experienced than I was. And she was a painter. Not a real one, no, it was all just for fun – she didn't have a chance to go to uni. Money thing. So there she was – stuck in a 100-yen store for a job and with a bratty high-schooler for a boyfriend. Not a very desirable situation... It was her way of thinking that I fell in love with. 'Not to go with the flow, not to go against it either... staying at the river bank is the best' was her policy. She also taught me to have fun. Sounds strange, huh? But – yep, there was a time when I wasn't so light and communicatable. People change, right?..

Not long after I finally started to take it easy she died in a car accident. I cried myself stupid. After a week of a heavy depression my parents didn't even know the cause of I firmly resolved I would become a painter. Walked on the street to take a breath of fresh air and somehow wandered off to a piercing and tattoo salon. Next thing I knew was me lying on the operation chair with one of her graphic sketches in my hand. It took several days and almost all my pocket money to make my back look like this, but once I came out – I was never miserable over her again.

- My tattoo is very real, - I said after a short pause, - I'd even swear to it. Do you have a similar interest?

The whole story seemed pretty silly now, actually. But I never regretted making the tattoo. It gave me confidence. Nice to have something to stand up to, isn't it? Okay, out with the serious talk... it's his stage. Serious talk, I mean. He was making this face again.

- Yes, - he said solemnly, - A deep interest.

Then it struck me that three phrases for this guy is almost a real conversation. No way, I thought. I did it! And with what?

- But you ignored me the whole time... 'till now. Could it be a fetish? – I grined slyly.

Sweet. I had been so right about teasing him – it's the most fun thing in the world, I think, looking at his face. Can't describe it.

But from then on, he stopped ignoring me. Not that we became really close friends (to my dissappointment), but he started talking to me, at least. Meaningless to say I was as happy as ever. Not to mention that I could finally surprise Sato with his know-everything attitude. And from here begins the real story.


	3. Chapter 3

He never ceased to surprise me. Or should I say – freak me out?.. Sometimes I would completly lose his track as he was telling me something. Sometimes I would ask about something absolutely normal and he would shut up warily. He was holding some secret I couldn't understand. Neither did I try to. He was the most selfish, secretive and plain weird person in the whole universe, and it seemed he had every reason to be. Sometimes I wondered if he was even human. Humorously, of course, but you know… every joke is a joke to a certain extent.

Other than that, though, I really enjoyed being around him. It seemed that everything was obedient to him. Even the local coffee machine turned to be pretty docile as he was around (usually we had to drop in a store next to our uni for any kind of food). It was magical. And, as expected, it was soooooooo unreal fun to tease him! I did it all the time. Later on he stopped making those funny faces, figuring that it doesn't work, but it didn't stop me. Oh yeah, I especially liked the phrase "Kio, I'm not a pervert" said with a dead serious look which I didn't believe one single bit – as long as I knew, he always put on that expression when he lied. I thought it was hilarious.

I don't remember when exactly I had started calling him Sou-chan. It just came out by itself, I guess. He didn't object, just raised an eyebrow at me. I decided to look at it as a permission – may be not a real one, but who said I cared?.. It's a cute name, after all. And it suited him, as I look at it – though some buddies from our group didn't quite get my point. Poor ignorant people, I laughed.

Sometimes we would go to his house (he had his own apartment! What kind of first-year would, do you tell me?) for an all-nighter. That usually happened right before the session deadline, and usually it was just me who painted desperately 'till the morning while he drank the beer I bought and flamed my work from time to time. For which I was grateful – my grades had become miraculously high after I started to hang out with him. So it was usually me who invited myself in. He still didn't want to look friendly, I guess. Not that I minded… It was just really fun having him for a friend, despite his weird behavior sometimes. I loved it.

I was curious, too, of course. I often thought what kind of secret did he hold that he couldn't tell anyone. He didn't look like he was on drugs (those guys are usually either high or depressed) and it wasn't about unexpected kids, either. Not that I checked, but… I seriously started to think he had some trouble with the mob. Felt crazy worried 'bout him every time I considered that variant – he did get bruises and cuts all the time, sometimes all covered up in bandages, and made the 'stone face' every time I asked him about it. He said it was nothing. I didn't believe it.

It wasn't long till I met this _other guy._ He stood in beside the exit with a serene smile looking at his phone. I… In my whole life, I never saw something like what happened next. He turned his head – and I stopped in confusion. For a moment, I thought that it was a different person that somehow appeared in front of the first one. The expression changed into something completely opposite. His smile faded, eyebrows moved into an ironical frown, he looked like arrogant noble or something, honestly… His face had this awful mixture of royal casualness, confidence and almost… a sort of inquisitive disgust written in it. Sou-chan stopped too. I didn't see as I was looking at _that guy,_ but I could've sworn he stiffened for a second. Almost at the same time the horrible expression gave place to a neutral-cold look, and the guy tugged his chin to a side slightly, as if in a gesture, almost an order to follow.

And Sou-chan followed. I didn't know neither why or who this guy was or why didn't I stop him that time, but I knew one thing for sure – this was clearly not going to lead to any good. I watched them leave in silence, not able to get what just happened. Suddenly Sou-chan seemed… smaller. It felt like he had lost his spark while walking behind that guy. I didn't like that, not one tiny bit. I wanted to do something immediately, didn't exactly know what – probably hit this guy or pull Sou-chan away, it doesn't change anything. When I finally came to, those two were already gone. Like magic.

It wasn't hard to make a connection between this guy and the band-aids Sou-chan came covered up in the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

- What the?.. – I cried out in horror, almost dropping the fifth chupa-chups for the last ten minutes. – Geese, Sou-chan! What the hell happened to you?

I've been cursing myself the since the yesterday accident all night long. And the alarm rang as soon as I finally closed my eyes, or at least it seemed that way. I was really, really, incredibly suspisious of that guy. Disliked him from the start. He wasn't good. He was dangerous. You definetly can't trust someone with that kind of mug.

And now I've come to just hate him. The moment Sou-chan entered the classroom. I am – goin' to – kill that guy...

He glanced at me and sat down as if nothing happened. Br. I thought I 'd just felt cold for real.

- It's that guy's doing, right? Who is he, dammit? A fucking sadist? – I glance over the band-aids. – Man, Sou-chan, I can't believe it! You're a pure mess! What's with this whole business?

- It's none of yours, Kio, - he snapped quietly.

- Yes it is, - I objected, hitting the poor table with my fist. – I do respect secrets and privacy and all that stuff, but it's not the case if they're going to kill you! Just look at yourself, you idiot! If you can't even be responsible for what happens to you, then…

- Kio, - he glared at me. If looks could kill… - I assure you that I am quite aware of what is happening. It's you who aren't. Now please get over it. End of conversation.

I definitely didn't like how the conversation started, but this bandage thing got to my head, and I couldn't stop.

- No it's not! You know how they call this stuff? 'S called masochism. I beg you, Sou-chan. If you care about my nerves even a tiny little bit, stop this! Your sight is hurting my eyes.

- Kio, I'm not a masochist.

- Liar! How would you explain this then, huh?

- You understand nothing.

- Oh please, Sou-chan! This stinks for a mile! He's hurting you!

- He is the master I live for.

- WHAT?

- He is my Sacrifice.

- I don't understand a freaking thing you're talking about!

- I said you wouldn't.

I couldn't get why was he so calm. Okay, this time he didn't just freak me out, he almost gave me a heart attack! The better I understood this guy, the more I wanted to talk him out of this. I knew he wouldn't give up whatever it was, but it was just so wrong! Whatever it was. Whatever it was supposed to be. It was making me sick, and not just because I cared for Sou-chan. It's just gross – hurting other people on purpose, gross and cruel and just not fair! And surely it made me twice as angry 'cause it was Sou-chan. My friend. No, really – I'd never spent that much time with anyone else lately. It was always him, his thoughts, his time, his feelings that were on my mind. He might think he doesn't need friends – but not anymore. Not with this freak tearing him up like this. As hell I'm going to let him go now. He needs me, I thought.

My thoughts were interrupted by sensei who'd crept into the class silent and unnoticed and was now asking for attention.

- I can't leave it like this, - I whispered to the blonde. – I swear he'll pay.

If looks could kill, I would've been a piece of frozen meat five minutes ago. Thank God they can't.


End file.
